


s'aimer comme ça c'est pas vulgaire

by spaceboy_niko



Series: he likes my taste (he likes my waist) [7]
Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Corsetry, Couch Sex, Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, fancy gala events happen too, i just wanted pretty dresses to happen, its the fluffiest sex ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/spaceboy_niko
Summary: Barry leans over and whispers, “I don’t think I could stand it if I had to look at you all night tonight and then go home and jack off alone. Could I come back to yours?”James swallows – Barry watches his Adam’s apple bob – and tries to fight the blush off his face.Barry sits back into his seat and raises an eyebrow cheekily, and then continues to watch the proceedings like nothing happened.





	s'aimer comme ça c'est pas vulgaire

As someone who apparently has some influence in the culinary world, James gets invites to all sorts of pretentious occasions, where he watches chefs more famous than him be presented with prestigious things.

This time, it’s a gala for restaurateurs in London, and he’s fairly certain that he’s been invited as token internet representation, but that won’t stop him going.

He skims the invite again, and he catches smaller print under the dress code: _one guest permitted per invitee_.

It’s not hard to think of people he could bring with him – he’d bring Ben if Ben wasn’t already invited and if he didn’t want them to be known as those two gay chefs from YouTube, or he’d bring Mike if he didn’t want to be known as a gay YouTube chef.

He’s starting to resign himself to going alone when Barry comes over to his desk with a cup of tea for him, kisses him on the temple, and makes his way out again.

“Hey, Baz?” he asks before he realises what he’s doing.

“Yeah?”

“Are you busy on–" he skims over the invite again, “–the nineteeth?”

“Hmm, don’t think so,” Barry hums as he walks back over and leans heavily on James’ shoulders. “What’s happening?”

“D’you wanna be my plus one to this?” James waves the invite under Barry’s nose and Barry grabs it out of his hand.

James feels the pressure on his shoulders shift and Barry works a hand into his hair as he reads.

“Would– would you mind if I…” He gestures vaguely with the hand holding the invite.

“If you what?” James asks, leaning up into Barry’s hand.

“If I dressed up?”

James tilts his head back to look back at Barry, trying to look like this isn’t what he was hoping Barry would say. “You’ve seen the dress code, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve never dressed for one of these before, have I? I wanna find a lovely gown and do proper gala makeup and style my hair nicely, and I want us to be James and _Jessica_ for a night, instead of James and Barry.”

“Shit, Barry,” James says, “I’m not going to stop you.”

* * *

Mike gets a call from Barry after work while he’s washing up.

“Mike, I need you to help me out with something.”

“You say that,” Mike says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and his ear, “but the word ‘something’ there scares me because you’re not telling me what ‘something’ is.”

“I need you to dress me up.”

“You don’t need to ask me to do that,” Mike scoffs.

“No, no, I mean _really_ dress up. James wants me to be his plus one for one of those chef-y event thingies him and Ben always get invited to, and he said he’d let me go as Jessica!”

“You sound like you’ve just been asked to prom, Baz,” Mike laughs. “How long do we have?”

“Couple weeks or so?”

Mike lets the water out of the sink and dries his hands. “Alright, so we need to find you a dress and figure out what we’re doing with the rest of you. I’ve never done makeup for anything fancy, though, are you okay with that?”

Barry makes a noise that Mike can’t quite read. “We’ll figure that out. But you can’t tell James about _anything_. I want to absolutely blow his mind.”

“You want him to absolutely blow _you_ , is what you want, Barry.”

“Well, yeah, that too, but his mind first. He’s easier when I look pretty.”

Mike snickers. “Then we’ll make you a stunner, Jess.”

* * *

“Now, Jess, I want you to remember you’re tucked and in a corset and wearing a breastplate, and we don’t want any of that showing,” Mike reminds him quietly as they peruse the racks in the dress hire.

Barry feels very self-conscious – this feels too run-of-the-mill for him to be dressed up for, but he has to be so they can see what fits him properly. Mike wouldn’t let him tightlace or wear the ridiculous breastplate that barely fits him properly, and with a bare scraping of makeup by his standards, he looks fairly normal – normal enough to be browsing the formal dresses with Mike.

They find several dresses, some picked out seriously and others just for a laugh – lace and velour and silk and glitter in a whole myriad of colours, flowing skirts and bodycon dresses with thigh slits and cutouts and everything Barry could ever want in any dress.

Mike decides against a few very quickly.

“Colour’s shit.”

“That cut does nothing for your waist.”

“I can see your underwear. That’s not good, _Jess_.”

Barry flushes and hurries back into the changing room at that.

There are some that Mike approves of, and then there are some that Mike _really_ approves of – Barry sashays out in a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder dark green velour dress with a slit up to his mid-thigh, and Mike looks like he wants to tear him out of it, or at least follow him back into the dressing room, but he sighs and says wistfully, “I can see your plate, but I’m going to have to buy you something like that for another day.”

Barry smirks and heads back in to change. There’s only a couple of dresses left, and Mike’s rejected or been indifferent to most of the ones he’s tried.

He zips himself up and walks out to Mike and the big mirror, and Mike’s jaw drops.

The dress hugs his body like a glove, high-necked and full-length with intricate black lacework over shimmery gold silk. It pools at his feet a bit, and he stands on tiptoe to see how it’d look if he were in heels, and Mike makes a strangled noise. Barry has to admit that, even with his face barely done and his hair in nothing more than a ponytail, he feels like he could walk down a red carpet as he is.

“I think I’ve found the dress, Mike,” Barry says in a kind of quiet awe.

“And I will not let you rent any other dress,” Mike replies.

* * *

Mike calls him over a couple more times before the gala, once to style his wig and once to practise doing his makeup. Barry doesn’t complain – Mike pours them both wine and puts on music or whatever is on Netflix that they both agree on.

The hair is wonderful – Mike’s evidently spent hours pinning it back in little twists and braids, interspersing them with bits of gold chain that catch the light.

Mike’s also bought a new palette that shimmers when he opens it up and shows Barry the colours, and he takes a very long time on Barry’s eyes, layering and blending and highlighting and lining and finally, _finally_ gluing lashes into place.

Barry opens his eyes and barely recognises the girl in the mirror. She’s still Jess, obviously, but she looks more regal and dignified and sultry, all the focus on her wide eyes and dark lashes that seem to reach the soft contours of her cheeks.

Mike helps him put on his wig, and Barry goes through the motions in a state of stunned disbelief.

She is everything Barry always wanted Jessica to be. He wishes he could just keep admiring himself until he has to put on his corset and the dress in a few days’ time, but the thought of the wait sets a fire of excitement in his heart.

Mike hugs him around the shoulders and looks at him in the mirror.

“If James doesn’t want to rail you until you’re part of his mattress, then he’ll fuck you on his couch because he won’t be able to wait any longer.”

“Do _you_ wanna fuck me on your couch?” Barry asks cheekily. “Are you projecting onto potential-future-James?”

“Maybe,” Mike answers. “Lose the wig, I worked hard on that and I don’t want to pull anything out of place.”

The credits of a David Attenborough documentary start to roll as Mike starts fucking into Barry, who wraps his legs around Mike and pulls him in closer so neither of them fall off the couch.

“Were you– _fuck_ – particularly interested in learning about the migration patterns of seabirds?” Mike pants as the sound cuts.

“Nah,” Barry sighs, rolling his hips up to meet Mike’s thrusts.

“James is a better lay than you,” he says once they’re done and Mike is lying on top of him and squishing him like an arsehole.

“Good thing I’m helping you get laid, then,” Mike says, like the helpful friend he is, and Barry can’t move his arm to punch him.

* * *

Barry and Mike knock off work early the day of the gala, and Mike drops Barry off to let him clean himself up and shave while Mike picks up the dress.

He showers in a way that can only be described as indulgent, and when Mike comes back, he’s laid out his white corset and sheer black tights with lacy garters.

“You’re not showing off any leg, Baz, you don’t need to go to that much effort.”

“Not at the gala, I’m not,” Barry says cheekily, and Mike smirks.

“You’re absolutely going to break him, you know that, right?” Mike says as he starts work on Barry’s face. “You’re going to destroy him, and then we’ll all be sad. Ben’ll go back to being his old pernickety self, and I’m going to be even later to work because I’ll be jacking off in the shower, and it’ll be your fault that no one is getting the therapeutic fucking we all need, you horny bitch.”

Barry rolls his eyes and lets Mike continue, obligingly shutting his eyes or pouting or sucking his cheeks in when Mike tells him to.

Time seems to pass differently while he’s dressing up – it feels like it’s happening so quickly, but he knows it takes hours and they’ve made sure they have hours but he’s still worried that James is going to arrive and he isn’t going to have his wig or nails on or be in his dress.

But everything goes smoothly. Mike glues his lashes on and tightens his corset, lets him pull on his tucking gaff and tights, and picks out black pumps with stiletto heels and helps him step into the dress.

The zip runs up smoothly and the fabric clings to his curves as the back closes.

“One day,” Mike says, “we’ll get your ears pierced, so I don’t have to buy you dumb clip-on earrings.” He tosses Barry a box with long glittery gold earrings in it, and Barry clips them to his ears with a slight wince as Mike hands him rings and bracelets to match.

They get his wig on with minimal restyling needed, but that doesn’t stop Mike from touching it, fixing the twists and the chain and the glued-down lacefront.

The doorbell rings, and Mike has to be happy with everything, so he kisses Barry lightly on the nose and heads out to let James in.

Barry can hear Mike talking excitedly in the living room, so he tentatively walks out into the living room, and James looks up at the sound of his heels and stares.

“Wow,” he manages after a stunned silence, and Barry smiles in relief. “Way to upstage me.”

In Barry’s opinion, James looks devilishly dashing – all black slacks and velvety-looking blazer, with a white shirt unbuttoned enough to give Barry a teasing glimpse of his defined collarbones – but James looks at him like he’s just gracefully descended from heaven.

“Jessica, you’re breathtaking.”

Barry feels himself go red. Mike coughs pointedly.

“Oh, yeah, good job, Mike,” James adds. “Well, uh. Shall we go, then?”

“I– yes. Yeah. God, this is exciting.” He’s never introduced himself to strangers as Jess, never smiled for a photo as Jess, never been introduced as someone’s partner Jess.

James grins, bigger than Barry’s ever seen him smile, and offers his arm. Barry can’t help but smile back and takes it.

“Have fun, don’t bother bringing her back here,” Mike says at the door. “I’ve got company coming.”

He pushes them out the door and shuts it firmly behind them.

* * *

It’s a bit strange, arriving amidst people Barry knows are star-studded yet he doesn’t recognise. No one minds, though – they just greet him as ‘Miss Taylor’ and immediately shift their attention to James, but Barry watches their eyes flick back over him every so often.

James keeps an arm on him as they mingle with flutes of champagne, pointing out guests and nominees and helping him not look like an idiot when they inevitably make small talk.

“He runs that sushi restaurant we took Ben to for his food heaven.”

“That guy has a three-storey restaurant that looks absolutely amazing, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat there because it’s ridiculously pricey.”

“You’ve heard of Heston Blumenthal, don’t play dumb, Jess.”

“You’ve definitely eaten at the Ritz, you can say you’ve been to a Michelin-star restaurant.”

They’re called into the hall as Barry is finishing his glass, and James is waxing poetic about a place specialising in nose-to-tail cuts when there’s a tap on Barry’s shoulder.

“You’re quite the couple, you know. James, mate, you’ve done well for yourself.”

“I know,” James replies without missing a beat, looking over his shoulder to face Ben. “Good to see you, too.”

Barry kisses Ben on the cheek by way of greeting, and Ben says quietly, “Take him home and treat him well, _darling_ , he bloody needs it.”

Barry smiles and winks as he pulls away, and returns to James’ side as they find their seats.

It’s not particularly exciting – Barry would be more excited if James had been nominated for something, or Ben, or even anything Sorted had done, but instead he just sits and claps politely.

But when he doesn’t need to clap, he finds his hands wandering, resting innocently on James’ knee and sliding up to his thigh, and he can see James trying _so_ hard not to look down and draw attention, trying to keep his breathing even and a flush off his face.

During one bout of applause, Barry leans over and whispers, “I don’t think I could stand it if I had to look at you all night tonight and then go home and jack off alone. Could I come back to yours?”

James swallows – Barry watches his Adam’s apple bob – and tries to fight the blush off his face.

Barry sits back into his seat and raises an eyebrow cheekily, and then continues to watch the proceedings like nothing happened.

James soon feels a hand on his thigh again.

* * *

James only just manages to get them through his door before he smashes his lips to Barry’s in a searing kiss, backing him into the wall to deepen it. Barry can feel his lipstick smudging, over his face and and surely his teeth, if the movement of James’ tongue in his mouth is any clue, and he moans long and loud against James.

James’ hand starts wandering over Barry’s chest, and the way he squeezes and grinds his palm over the peak as if he’s forgotten it’s fake is so hot to Barry. The other hand joins in, skimming down Barry’s hip and grabbing at his arse, kneading and squeezing in time with himself. Barry can feel how hard James is against his thigh, and lets him grind into his hand just to listen to his breath hitch.

“God, you’re fucking stunning, _Jess_ ,” James moans into his mouth, reaching up to tug down the zipper at the back of the dress. “You have no idea what you were doing to me, I need you out of this, like, yesterday.”

He slides the dress off Barry’s shoulders and lets it fall to the ground, letting Barry step out carefully.

“Wig and tits too, I don’t wanna ruin too much of Mike’s work. Keep the corset and everything else on, though.”

Barry obliges, struggling out of his plate and gaff – he couldn’t just say no to anything James tells him to do – and James’ smile brightens as he takes off his wig and earrings. “Hello there, Barry.”

Barry beams back, and stretches up to kiss James again enthusiastically, throwing his arms around James’ neck and pulling him down close.

They leave his dress and wig and breastplate neatly on James’ couch and go not-neatly to his bedroom, and Barry staggers in his heels so many times that James sighs and picks him up bridal-style to sweep him through the doorway.

Barry shrieks and clutches onto James’ neck as one shoe falls off, followed by the other one. “Put me down, _James_! You’re not marrying me!”

James spins them around and laughs, half-dropping Barry onto the bed and straddling his thighs as he bounces softly from the impact.

“I don’t think I’ve said how much I like you in this,” James says, tracing the black binding of the corset under his ribcage.

“Don’t you like me in _all_ of my corsets?” Barry pouts.

“I do, I do, but this one is really nice on you, you’re so…coordinated today.” James runs a finger down the busk and hooks it into Barry’s panties, snapping the elastic back and making him squirm and laugh as he takes them off.

“You’re pretty,” James says, kissing his temple, “and elegant,” moving down to suck at his neck, “and graceful,” kissing his sternum, “and positively angelic,” skimming down over the corset to kiss his hipbone, “and I am the luckiest man in the world tonight.”

Barry makes a pleased noise, interlocking his fingers on his hip with James’.

“Can I rim you?”

Barry nearly bursts out laughing. “All that fancy talk just for that?”

“Are you gonna say no?”

“Of course not, but–”

“See? Works every time.”

Barry still has a smile on his face as James leans up over him and grabs lube and a condom, but it’s quickly replaced by a look of contentment as James licks and nips around his hole.

He doesn’t understand why people use the phrase ‘lie back and think of England’, because even with his head nestled between James’ pillows and his eyes closed, there is nothing on this earth that could distract him from the press of James’ hands on the backs of his thighs, the slight scratch of his beard around his taint and the feeling of his tongue pressing in deep as James works him open. James’ mouth is all the things Barry could ever want and more, warm and soft and so, so nice. He tries to keep his noise down, because he doesn’t want to disrupt the magic that’s happening between his thighs, but he moans sharply when James works in a finger along with his tongue.

And then Barry’s being properly spread open, one finger and tongue becoming two fingers and the mouth withdrawing, then three, and by that point he can barely lie still, pleading a jumbled combination of words that sound like “James” and “please” and “fuck me”.

James is nothing if not kind to Barry, and so rips into the condom before rolling it down himself and slicking himself up. He wipes his hand clean and steadies himself with hands on Barry’s hips as he slides in smoothly.

They fall into a rhythm fairly quickly – they’ve been practicing, Barry thinks – and Barry hooks his legs around James’ back, changing the angle and deepening his thrusts and bringing James closer to him.

James buries his face in Barry’s shoulder and Barry wraps his arms around him, pulling him in close and digging his fingertips in and whispering, “Harder, James, please.”

James obliges and snaps his hips into Barry, punching out a high noise. He always does his best to please, and Barry moves his hips up to meet him, hyper-aware of the pleasant floaty sensation that comes from the corset slowly cutting off his air supply.

But James has full control of his breath, and somehow the capacity to still form words.

“You’re so good when I fuck you, so pretty, Barry.I love how you sound and how you feel, _god_ , it’s bloody wonderful,” he pants into Barry’s ear, nipping at the shell and running his teeth down to bite at his neck, leaving a trail of red marks. “I could fuck you forever and never get bored.”

“Ja– James, thank you, James,” Barry breathes back.

James bites harder on the side of his windpipe, high up on Barry’s neck, and stifles his low noises in the skin. It hurts a little, but James treats him with so much softness and love otherwise that Barry can definitely forgive him this, especially as his thrusts become less sharp and controlled and more sloppy as he gets closer.

Barry doesn’t register James is coming until the grip on his hips tightens like a vice, and then he’s arching off the bed into James, raking his nails down his back and spilling onto the corset with a soft cry of James’ name.

James sheepishly pulls out when they’re both done, and gets up to bin the condom and grab a washcloth. Barry watches him as he cleans the corset off, sleepy and comfortable and satisfied until James puts the cloth down and half-lies on top of him, leaning in to kiss him.

“Oh, go brush your teeth, your mouth's been in my arse, and you are not kissing me with that.” Barry pushes lightly at James’ shoulder and he rolls over with a groan.

“I don’t wanna get up again, though,” James whinges.

“I’ll kiss you all you want once you don’t taste like my bum, go on, James.”

“You’re a classy lady, Jessica,” James mutters as he stands up from the bed, and Barry has an excellent view of the scratches he’s left down James’ well-muscled back.

He rolls over and pulls the lacings of his corset undone, loosening them as he goes before rolling back over and undoing the busk. Sitting up, he takes off his tights and picks up his panties and shoes from the floor and takes all his lingerie out into James’ living room, leaving it all in the pile with his dress.

He’s back in bed when James gets back, half-under the covers, and he can’t help but laugh as James slides in next to him and peppers kisses all over his face. “Clean enough for you, Barry?”

Barry grabs James’ chin and kisses him on the mouth, soft and sweet and trying really hard to tell James how much he means to him without using words, and by the look on James’ face when they break apart, he’s picked up on the message.

James pulls Barry in close, hugging him to his chest. He’s warm, and his strong arms bracket Barry’s shoulders in a way that makes him feel totally safe and loved, and he couldn’t be happier as he yawns into James’ pecs and snuggles himself in deeper.

* * *

James wakes up alone, but the bed is still warm next to him, so he pads out to the living area and finds Barry on his couch. The dress is folded neatly on one of his dining chairs, and Barry is sipping on a cup of tea and–

“Are you wearing my jumper?”

Barry pushes back the sleeves of a cable-knit jumper that is clearly far too big for him. “No?”

“You steal my jumper, you drink my tea, anything else you want?” James says, light-heartedly accusing, and rests his chin on Barry’s head.

“Cuddles?” Barry looks up hopefully. “I made you a coffee?”

“Is it still hot?”

Barry shrugs, and the movement makes the sleeves fall down again. “Probably.”

James kisses him on the nose. “If it’s still hot, you can have cuddles, you jumper-thief.”

His coffee is piping hot, and Barry is incredibly soft against his side.

**Author's Note:**

> editing who is she
> 
> thanks again to the sorted server, you guys have somehow become bigger bottom barry stans than i have and you've been so great w this au love yall <3
> 
> title from boum boum boum by mika


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